


time is passing by (I still want you)

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: nothing feels like you [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 'cause the age of consent in cali is 18, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthdays!, Canon-Typical Violence, College Student Derek, College/University Decision Making, F/M, Full Shift Werewolves, Implied Past Underage, Implied Underage, M/M, Mates, Non-Graphic Violence, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, check the end notes if youre sensitive about things, yeah that's the right tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not doing it just for you,” he says quickly, pointing a finger at Derek, “Or us. There are a lot of good programs at Berkeley and I like that it’s close to home.” He waits a half second and continues with “But you and I both know that it’s easier for both of us when we’re together.”</p><p>Derek sighs, but nods in agreement after a moment.</p><p>“That’s true but – I don’t want that to make your final decision.”</p><p>“I love you, Derek, but I promise I’m not gonna let us get in the way of what I decide to do with my life.” </p><p>* </p><p>Or Stiles decides what college he wants to go to, and a few things get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time is passing by (I still want you)

**Author's Note:**

> holy fuuuuuuuck I can't believe I finally got this out. also I need to point out that this is actually the longest one-shot I've ever written ever.  
> continuation of [just the touch of a hand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3686262) which I highly suggest you read before you read this, which is also the first fic of this series.  
> title from "Still Want You" by Brandon Flowers.

“So,” Stiles says one morning as he eats his cereal. The Sheriff looks at him over his cup of coffee, raising one eyebrow, much to used to _that_ tone of voice when it comes to Stiles to be anything but wary in this situation.

“I’ve applied to a few colleges over the past couple of weeks,” he tells his dad, who feels momentarily relieved. He smiles at his son, puts down his coffee and his fork.

“Where all you’d apply?” he asks, and Stiles flashes a smile back as he answers.

“Y’know, the ones I’ve wanted to go to for a while. Stanford. UCR, USF, I applied to Arizona State and New York University, too. And, um, Berkeley.”

His dad’s smile falters just the slightest at that, and Stiles knows what he’s going to say before he actually says it, but he does anyway.

“Stiles,” he says with a sigh, “I don’t want you going someplace just because – ”

“It’s _not_ just because of Derek,” he asserts, because yes, Derek might be going to Berkeley, but it was so much more than that, “Berkeley’s got a great program, has exactly what I want to go into, I think. It’s close to home and offers lots of great scholarships and – ”

“You’ve wanted to go to Stanford since you were five,” the Sheriff interrupts to point out, and Stiles lets out a huff of annoyance before calmly answering.

“I know. I love the idea of Stanford, I love the idea of _going_ to Stanford because that’s where mom went but – when I was trying to decide what I wanted to go into, I looked through the undergrad programs Stanford has to offer and – they’re not as good as what Berkeley has, they don’t strike my interest as much, dad.”

It’s not like his dad doesn’t like Derek – he does, actually, thinks he’s a good man and a great boyfriend for Stiles (he’s told Stiles as much), but he _doesn’t_ like how fast they’d accelerated their relationship (i.e., a couple of months after dating Stiles had jokingly said something about “when they get married”, which apparently wasn’t something you said even jokingly after a couple of months of dating, especially when you’re _seventeen_ and your boyfriend is _eighteen_ ). And it’s not like Stiles can just tell him that it’s actually because he and Derek were like _made_ for each other, that he’s Derek’s mate and that Derek is actually a magical creature of the night, and though they of course could possibly break up, it’s very unlikely, actually (which had totally scared Stiles to death in the beginning, but it was something he’d grown accustomed to, after a short while, especially after Derek had assured him that yes, it was _unlikely_ that they would break up but it was okay, if he wanted out of the relationship at any time, he was more than _allowed_ to).

The Sheriff sighs, poking at the eggs that are on his plate.

“And what is it that you want to major in?”

“Oh,” Stiles starts a bit, because that isn’t what he’s expecting, “Um. I’m thinking something having to do with media studies or communication? Or maybe a couple different majors.”

“A double major?” his dad asks with a raised eyebrow and Stiles nods with a small smile.

“You know I can do it. Derek’s got two majors and a minor and I know he graduated in the top ten percent, but I’m also like ninety-seven percent sure I’m number two in my class right now, so I’m not worried.”

“I’m not either,” his dad replies, smiling in return, “Just know it’s gonna be tough if that’s what you decide.”

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles says, standing up and taking his bowl to the sink, “And I’m not even sure if that’s where I’ll go. UCR and NYU also have really good programs for what I want to go into, so if I get accepted to those…”

“I’ve no doubts,” his dad returns, and Stiles smiles even wider.

***

“So I told my dad this morning,” Stiles tells Derek later that afternoon, just barely looking up from his homework to glance at Derek through is computer screen, where his boyfriend is also doing homework (Scott had gagged a little bit when he’d first caught them doing homework together over Skype, but Stiles had calmly reminded him of all the much-cheesier things he and Allison had done over the past year and a half).

“Told him what?” Derek asks a bit distractingly, which Stiles doesn’t feel at all bad about because he knows Derek’s got this biological science course that is kicking his ass this semester, so he just copies down another math problem and replies with a “That I applied to Berkeley.”

There’s silence for a moment, enough so that Stiles looks up to see Derek looking at him carefully, a little shocked, and he just raises his eyebrows in return.

“Did I not tell you I was going to?”

“No, Stiles,” is Derek’s reply, and he sounds just a little bit annoyed, “I think I would’ve remembered.” He pauses, and much like his dad Stiles can _hear_ the argument before it comes.

“I’m not doing it just for you,” he says quickly, pointing a finger at Derek, “ _Or_ us. There are a lot of good programs at Berkeley and I like that it’s close to home.” He waits a half second and continues with “But you and I both know that it’s easier for both of us when we’re together.”

Derek sighs, but nods in agreement after a moment.

“That’s true but – I don’t want that to make your final decision.”

“I love you, Derek, but I promise I’m not gonna let us get in the way of what I decide to do with my life.”

Derek’s face softens immensely at that, and he offers a small smile as he returns it.

“Love you too.”

“Get back to your homework, I want you to pass this class.”

Derek definitely rolls his eyes this time, but Stiles just laughs in response when Derek does, indeed, get back to his homework.

***

 _“So this mate thing,” Stiles starts. He and Derek are sitting on the couch in Stiles’ living room, half-curled around each other (it’s been a week since that fateful day, but Stiles quickly learned that Derek is very tactile._ Very _tactile, and apparently, it’s normal to be touchy with your mate anyway, which meant lots and lots of little touches and cuddling, and honestly, Stiles wasn’t complaining, he didn’t mind it at all). There’s some docudrama playing on the TV, but neither of them are really watching it, instead talking to each other._

_Derek looks down at his lap somewhat ashamedly, biting his lip._

_“I know it’s…weird? It’s especially weird because – most werewolves only mate with other weres, who ninety-nine percent of the time feel the same way back, so it’s completely normal. To have a human mate is extremely rare, actually? So I understand if it’s really overwhelming – ”_

_“It’s more the consent thing that’s still freaking me out, I think. Like, you have no control over who your mate is? What if your mate is someone you don’t even like?”_

_Derek quirks a smile at that, pulling Stiles a little bit closer._

_“That’s not how it works, Stiles. Your mate is…the point of mates is that you wouldn’t be happier with anyone else. For most ‘wovles, that’s it, the end, there’s no point in even dating anyone else.”_

_“That’s scary,” Stiles whisper-confesses after a moment of silence, because he can’t comprehend that – he’s seventeen years old, he’s only briefly dated one other person besides Derek, he doesn’t really think he’s ready for_ forever _. Derek’s small smile falls off at that, and he shakes his head._

_“Most ‘wolves don’t find their mates until they’re in their mid-twenties, if at all, Stiles. It’s not the same with us, and I completely understand if you ever wanna break it off. It’s not the same for humans, either, but some ‘wolves can’t even deal with the ‘forever and always’ deal of it, and even though mates is supposed to be the end-all-be-all, it doesn’t have to be that way, Stiles. We’re young, we’re pliable, no rules of magic or whatever is going to stop either of us from living our lives, okay?”_

_Stiles looks up at his boyfriend, finally feeling somewhat more relaxed about the whole concept; he could easily_ imagine _Derek in his future, forever, but that was scary to actually think about. The difference between fantasy and reality, he supposed. Maybe someday they could meet, but that day was not going to be today; today, they were separate realms, and he felt more comfortable, knowing that this mates thing didn’t have to be forever, if it didn’t work out._

***

“You’re birthday’s next week,” Derek says one day mid-November. Stiles smiles as he presses his phone closer to his ear.

“It is,” he agrees, knowing he sounds excited and eager, because frankly, he is. Eighteen feels like an entire different plane, despite how often and loudly Derek laments that being eighteen meant nothing but more responsibilities.

“Any plans?” his boyfriend asks, and Stiles sighs a bit, thinks about the big project that’s due the day after.

“Too much to worry about with school and lacrosse to do more than maybe go out for dinner with Dad the day of,” he tells him, pausing for a moment to think about it, “I think Lydia might be planning a surprise party for me for that weekend.” He pauses another moment, quietly admitting the next thing to Derek, “Kind of wanted to just come down to see you for the weekend, actually.”

He can practically hear Derek’s soft smile on the other side of the phone.

“Have fun with your friends, get really drunk, etc., etc., etc. I’ll be up the weekend after for Thanksgiving anyway.”

“I know,” Stiles replies, whining just a little bit, “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“I miss you too,” Derek tells him, which makes him feel at least a little bit better, at least until Derek sighs, “I’ve got an eight am tomorrow and you have school, so I think it’s about time to say good night.”

Stiles makes another little whining noise in the back of his throat, but when he looks at the clock and sees it’s almost one in the morning, he realizes that they probably should.

“Skype tomorrow night? After you get done with work?”

“I’ll call you,” Derek agrees, “G’night. Love you, Stiles.”

“Love you too,” Stiles replies, smiling until he hears the phone click dead.

It’s a lot like this, always this feeling of slight desperation and frustration. Berkeley isn’t _that_ far away, he’s been down twice (once when Derek moved in, once since) and Derek’s been up a couple of weekends since the mid-August move, but that doesn’t make the separation any _easier_. It’s still hard to only see Derek every few weeks, and he knows it’s partly because they’re dating and only have been for a little less than a year, and probably a lot more because of the whole magic-pulling-them-together thing. He’s not going to admit it to his father, or even fully admit it to Derek, but it was a factor in his choosing to apply to Berkeley – actually, not fully, but instead his choosing to even _look_ at Berkeley. He hadn’t ever thought about it until that summer; Stanford had kind of been a shoe-in to apply to, he’d liked the programs at UCR and USF and ASU, and NYU had kind of been a last-minute “hey this looks like it could be a good college”, but Berkeley had mostly been put in his view because that’s where Derek was. The choice to actually apply had been more thought-out, because he hadn’t been lying – they had lots of great programs that he could see himself a part of, he’d looked closely at their Media Studies and Interdisciplinary Studies programs and liked them a lot, and the school itself had a wonderful reputation. By the time he’d decided to apply, Derek being there was a lot _less_ of a major factor.

A factor nonetheless, however.

He might not be a supernatural creature of any sort, but whatever the mate thing was, he felt it. And he isn’t about to _not_ admit to himself that he’d already factored Derek into his future.

He sighs again, plugging his phone in and making sure he has an alarm set for the next morning before shutting his light off and climbing into bed. The moon is shining through his window, and he stares at it for a bit before he finally falls asleep.

***

“We’re going to get milkshakes at Arlene’s after school,” Allison informs him a week and a half later, sitting down at their usual lunch table. Scott nods obediently from Stiles’ right, but Stiles kind of sighs, looking down at his tray.

“I might just go home. Kind of tired after staying up until two getting that project done,” he tells her, but Allison looks unimpressed with this logic.

“We didn’t do anything last night because you had lacrosse and had to finish that paper,” she says, “So we are going out for milkshakes and curly fries on me after school to celebrate you being eighteen.”

Her voice is completely no-nonsense, a tone she’d perfected under Lydia after nearly three years of best-friendship. It isn’t as intimidating as Lydia's, but is still pretty so anyway, and Stiles holds back his grin, both at her tone and at the obviousness of this tactic to get him out for a couple hours before “tricking” him into going to Lydia's house for his “surprise” party (he’d overheard Lydia talking to Allison about something like this a few days previous, and then Lydia emphatically telling Allison to make sure that Scott didn’t spoil the surprise).

“I think you’re more excited about it than I am,” he tells her, but she smirks at the same time that Scott barks out a laugh and Lydia and Jackson sit down at the table.

“About what?” Lydia asks immediately, and Allison turns to her.

“He thinks I’m more excited about his eighteenth than he is, but I think it’s pretty obvious that he’s quite excited to finally be able to legally have sex with his boyfriend again.”

Lydia smiles at that with a nearly-lecherous look on her face as Jackson snickers, but Stiles rolls his eyes at her.

“You’ve got a year and a month on Scott, don’t forget,” he reminds her, but Allison just laughs lightly, more than settled into the fact that she’s a little older than the rest of their class. He just gives another very light sigh, because honestly he _is_ cool with celebrating his birthday a bit, even if he would honestly rather be going down to Berkeley for the weekend.

“Fine. Milkshakes and fries after school. Are you going to be coming, Lyds?” he asks, even though he knows the answer, but Lydia seems to be expecting it anyway as she smiles and shakes her head.

“Jackson and I have plans tonight,” she says easily, “But I think we should all get together on Sunday for brunch to commemorate you turning eighteen.”

Stiles only snorts slightly at that quick change of topic, as a few others join them and the conversation shifts.

***

“Gotta swing by Lydia's quickly before I drop you off,” Allison says later as they’re piling into her vehicle again. She’d insisted on taking her car, just her car, from the school, as it would “save on gas and be more green, Stiles. Don’t you care about the planet?”

“Thought she had plans with Jackson,” he replies, just to be contrary. She goes with it smoothly, though.

“Texted her earlier. I forgot something there yesterday when we were studying and I need it before the weekend starts.”

“Got big plans this weekend?”

“Date night tomorrow night,” Scott replies, and Allison nods with a dimpled smile.

“And I think Lydia was serious about that brunch on Sunday,” she adds on after a moment.

“Swear to god that you guys want to celebrate my eighteenth birthday more than I do,” he tells her, and hears Scott and Allison sigh.

“We know you wanted to see Derek this weekend,” Scott starts, “So we know that you’re not going to be as happy to spend it with us, but we honestly just want to commemorate it for you.”

He sounds a little hurt, which makes Stiles realize he’s been kind of an asshole about all of it.

“Commemorate. Big word,” he says, laughing a little when Scott sticks his tongue out in the rearview mirror at him.

“I’m sorry. I know,” he grins, “And I know I’ll end up having fun at this party, too.”

Allison jerks a little bit from where she’s driving, looking back at Stiles in the mirror with wide eyes as Scott looks around in the same fashion.

“How’d you know?” he nearly whines, and Stiles chuckles.

“I’m sorry, guys, none of you except for maybe Lydia are very good at keeping a secret, and I actually suspected she was going to plan it even before I heard her actually talking to you about it, Ally.”

“Hmm,” Allison hums, looking at Scott with raised eyebrows, who throws his hands up a little bit.

“I swear I didn’t say a thing about it. That’s all on you and Lydia, apparently.”

Stiles laughs again, shaking his head a little and feeling a little bit better anyway.

“I promise to act surprised when we get there anyway.” He stops, shrugs even though both Allison and Scott are looking forward again.

“And I will have fun, even though I do wish I coulda seen Derek. I’ll see him next week for Thanksgiving anyway.”

He only half sees the glance that Allison and Scott share then, but overlooks it as they turn into Lydia's driveway. Sure enough, there’s more than just Lydia's car there; he recognizes Jackson’s ostentatious-as-hell Porsche, Danny’s car, Erica’s, Cora’s Mustang, and he smiles because these are his friends and regardless of Derek’s not-presence he’s grateful and the night’s going to be good, he knows already.

“Lemme go first,” Allison says as they approach the front door, “That was the plan.”

She opens the door, stepping inside and immediately stepping to the side as Scott ushers Stiles in. There’s a loud chorus of “Surprise!” that hits him as soon as he’s inside the door and he doesn’t even have time to act surprised because all he can do is laugh because it actually feels really good. Frankly, back in freshman year, he hadn’t seen this coming at all; all the friends that are currently standing around Lydia's living room, people caring about him enough to throw a surprise party for him or people caring enough to show up to a party for him. His eyes sweep around the room with a bright smile on his face until they land on – oh holy fuck.

“You fucker,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend, grinning and leaning up against the doorway on the other side of the room. His feet take him to meet Derek almost automatically, and he hears laughter from around the room as he nearly throws himself the last couple of feet, kissing Derek thoroughly. He whispers a small “hi” before he turns around to face his friends.

“This is how you keep a secret, guys,” he tells them as Derek wraps his arms around him. Lydia smiles knowingly as everyone else laughs, cocking her head to the side.

“Like you finding out about the party and it distracting you from the real secret wasn’t my plan all along,” she says, and Stiles can’t help that his jaw drops a little bit as everyone laughs again.

“You’re good,” he tells her, and she laughs then.

“I know,” she replies, and Stiles can feel the laugh that runs through Derek’s body at that.

***

“You here until Sunday night?” Stiles asks later that night. He and Derek are laying on Derek’s bed, facing each other, and he feels lightly buzzed, partly from the alcohol Lydia’d so nicely provided for the party and partly because he hasn’t seen Derek is too many weeks and it feels so good to be here with him again.

“Until next weekend,” Derek tells him, playing with his fingers from where they’re hands are interlocked, “All my profs cancelled class for Wednesday since nobody’s going to show up anyway, and I was able to get out of Tuesday’s class because the prof is a ‘wolf and I just explained the situation to her. And I can afford to miss Monday’s classes, it’ll be my first missed class all semester.”

“I get an entire week with you?” Stiles makes sure, smiling brightly, and Derek nods, leaning over to kiss him lightly.

“Except when _you’re_ at school this week, of course.”

“We have Wednesday and Friday off anyway,” Stiles tells him, “I think I can stand the two days I do have to go.”

“Mhmm,” Derek hums, pressing his lips to Stiles’ collarbone, “You staying the night?”

“Already texted my dad,” Stiles assures, feeling the smile that graces Derek’s face against his chest.

***

Stiles runs sometimes. He’d discovered the greatness of running back when he was fourteen and trying to figure out a positive way to deal with his ADD, and running had become a sort-of therapy. It tired him out a bit and it was just incredibly calming. He hadn’t run all the time, only when he felt the familiar thrum beneath his skin that not even his meds could help, the weird mixture of ADD and the anxiety and panic that had started after his mom had died. When he’d started lacrosse, running had fallen off a bit, since the sport had been a way for him to get that extra energy out a different way. Derek, though, loved to run, and so Stiles had started up again after they’d gotten together. He still did it sometimes, even with lacrosse, but it definitely was something that he did most often when Derek was around.

Like Derek was.

On Wednesday, then, they go running. The Hale’s own a massive amount of the Preserve, and the other part is owned by the county and is open to the public, and it’s got some great trails. When Stiles wakes up in his boyfriend’s bed that morning, Derek’s staring at him (“Creeper wolf”) and smiling softly.

“Wanna go for a run?” Derek asks him after a “good morning” and a good morning kiss, and Stiles smiles and nods because that does sound good – doing anything with Derek is good, and running with Derek always feels nice, especially in early morning.

They get dressed – Stiles in an old pair of Derek’s shorts that fit him well and a borrowed sweatshirt – and head out.

Their runs are always half full of comfortable silence, enjoying each other and the softness of the nature around them, and half full of Stiles’ talking and Derek’s replies – Derek’s not much of a talker while running, but Stiles is a talker no matter what he’s doing.

“Okay, but what about My Chemical Romance?” Stiles asks, getting a snort from Derek, “What? Our generation was like raised on them.”

“I mean, I know their most popular songs,” Derek replies, “But I didn’t really get into my own music until I was fourteen. Before that it was music that I heard from Laura or my parents or my friends.”

“So what you’re saying is that your childhood was full of like, Bob Hope and N’Sync,” Stiles says, Derek giving him a look.

“First of all, how old do you think my parents are, and second, Laura was more a Backstreet Boys fan,” he waits for the surprised laugh to come out of Stiles’ mouth before he smirks and continues with, “Actually, she listened a lot to The Killers. So it as a lot of them and classic rock.”

“You were raised on The Killers and classic rock,” Stiles starts, “That explains so much.”

Derek is about to retort when he suddenly stops, letting out a growl and scanning the forest to his right, the opposite side of where Stiles is.

“Derek?” Stiles asks, stopping a couple feet in front of him, looking back and – Derek’s half wolfed-out, which Stiles has only seen on a few occasions, most of which he requested because it actually looks pretty damn cool, and he’s growling under his breath, eyes flashing and honestly, it’s kind of scary.

“Stiles,” Derek growls out after a moment, “You need to run, get back to the house, ASAP.”

“Derek, what is it,” Stiles says, scanning the forest, but it’s too thick for him to see anything more than a few feet in front of him. He glances back at the path they’d been on, back toward the house. It was a good twenty minute jog, maybe ten minutes if he _ran_.

“’Wolf,” Derek tells him, “Not our pack, it’s an omega. You need to get out of here.”

Stiles’ heart nearly shoots to his throat at that, because he’s only heard a little bit about ‘wolves outside of the pack, and Talia had explained a little bit of werewolf hierarchy to him – how packs formed around alphas, what it meant to be a beta or an omega, how things outside of weres fit into packs. And how it’s incredibly disrespectful to cross into other territories without alerting the pack beforehand (Talia had had to come to an agreement with the Sandres pack, the pack that was formed around the Bay area, about Derek’s being there for schooling, and had had to talk to all of the packs whose territories Derek had to go through to get to and from Berkeley), and omegas were more likely than any other to be feral, a broken part of a pack and likely to be dangerous.

“Stiles,” Derek growls again when Stiles doesn’t move, “Get. Out. Of here.”

Stiles does.

He sprints away, glancing back just once when he hears Derek let out a much louder growl, seeing a full-shift wolf jump out of the woods.

He lets out what is definitely a scream and almost pauses, but Derek yells at him once more as he throws the ‘wolf off him, a loud and growly “Run!”, and he sprints off in the direction of the house.

He’s about halfway there when he hears a distinctly non-Derek growl behind him, and it’s his own fault, he takes the time to glance behind him to see a huge distinctly non-Derek black wolf right behind him, a very distinctly _Derek_ black wolf just behind the first. He slows down enough, though, in his glance back that the first ‘wolf makes it to him, and he lets out another scream as he’s tackled to the ground by the huge thing, a huge pain ripping through his arm from its claws. It’s only a moment before Derek’s there, pushing the ‘wolf off Stiles, but it’s a moment that’s long enough that Stiles watches as the ‘wolf bites him, pain shooting through his stomach, and it’s followed by a much worse pain, radiating from his stomach out.

He hears growls and yips and a sound that Stiles can only associate with breaking bones from his left, but he doesn’t see a thing, his vision blurred by the pain in his body. He clutches onto his side, feeling the wetness of what he can only assume is blood pouring out of the freaking _bite_ the werewolf gave him, and his mind is racing because this is how _humans_ turn _into_ ‘wolves.

There’s a sudden, very loud howl from his left, and then there’s a ‘wolf in his line of vision, a little smaller, one that rapidly shifts into Derek, thank fuck, and Stiles can’t form words, can only clutch at his wound.

“Stiles, Stiles, you gotta stay with me. You’re going to be okay, Mom’s on her way and – ”

“I’m – fuck – am I turning?” Stiles manages to get out, and Derek looks incredibly worried, looking down at the bite on Stiles’ side before looking back up to his face.

“It was an – it was an omega, they can’t turn people, only an alpha’s bite can,” he tells Stiles, before reaching down, placing a hand on Stiles’ stomach by the bite. Stiles sucks in a breath, but then it’s – then it’s better, so much better, most of the pain gone, and fuck, Stiles forgot about that.

“Thanks,” he slurs, just before he hears, “Derek!”, and thank god, he sees Talia and Laura, blurry but there.

“What happened?” Talia asks, and Derek looks to her as Stiles tastes blood in his mouth.

“Omega – he – I tried but he got to Stiles and – mom, what’s happening?”

Stiles sees Talia shake her head but doesn’t catch what she says, and then she’s looking at Stiles.

“Stiles, we’re not going to have time to get you to a hospital,” she says, a little too calmly, Stiles thinks, because what?

“Not,” is what he tries to say, but there’s blood gurgling in his throat, which fuck, and also, gross, and he hears Derek’s whimper and Talia’s sigh of “I hate making this decision” before she’s grabbing his arm and there’s a new pain, so much like the first that he _knows_ she’s biting him and it’s followed by another pain, very different, and the last thing he sees before he passes out is Derek’s worried face.

***

Stiles wakes up with a raging headache and feeling…he doesn’t know what, but it’s not a feeling he’s used to, at all, and there are a lot of smells overwhelming him and he can hear this pounding, this pounding that sounds like a heart except he knows it’s not his.

He opens up his eyes slowly, finding himself to be in his own bedroom, in his own bed, and he’s – and he’s naked, for sure.

And there’s Derek, sitting in his desk chair watching him with careful eyes.

“Der,” he says, throat scratchy, and Derek’s up in an instant, coming over to sit on the edge of his bed, picking up a water bottle that was sitting by his bed and opening it, handing it to Stiles to drink out of. He does so eagerly, feeling kind of beat up and extremely thirsty and – and god, Derek smells good, he notices as he finishes up the water bottle, and – and oh.

“The omega,” he says as soon as the water bottle is away from his mouth, and Derek winces.

“It’s dead,” Derek tells him, and it sounds a little bit like a promise, except – Stiles yelps a little bit, reaching down to feel his stomach because the omega definitely bit him except – there’s no wound. And – and there’s nothing where he’s certain Talia Hale had bit him either, and –

“Oh,” he says as Derek watches him, wincing again and nodding a little bit, like confirming it.

“Your mom,” he starts, and Derek nods again.

“You were dying, there was no way we were going to get you to the hospital in time so mom – ” he stops, shrugs, but Stiles understands, understood before he even said anything.

“I’m a ‘wolf now.”

Derek sighs, looking at Stiles with careful eyes.

“Mom doesn’t like doing it without consent – she’s only ever bitten Erica and Boyd, and they both gave enthusiastic consent and had to go through pretty intense training to prepare for the change beforehand – but I couldn’t – I couldn’t just let you die.”

He sounds desperate, like he really needs Stiles to understand this, like he’s scared Stiles is going to reject it or something. And all Stiles can really do is laugh a little bit, his headache fading slowly.

“I would much rather be a werewolf than dead,” he tells Derek, who looks relieved, and then Stiles frowns, a rush washing over him, and “I’m really fucking horny,” is what comes out of his mouth. Derek’s mouth opens in surprise, but then he laughs, full and bright.

“It’s part of the change. It’s a lot like puberty all over again, your body changing in chemistry.”

Stiles gets that, that makes sense, but he feels like it’s so much more than that, too – it’s Derek, he can smell Derek, he can hear him, he can _feel_ him, and it’s incredibly intense.

“It’s you too,” Stiles tells him, at which Derek’s face twitches just a little bit, “It’s just – I always felt like I kind of understood the mate pull because I felt it with you, human or not, but it’s – god it’s so much more intense than I could’ve imagined, like I can – everything about you.”

Derek’s small smile breaks into a full-blown one as he says this, and he moves up on Stiles’ bed a little bit more.

“I was a little scared we’d be in that one percent of ‘wolf couples where one of them doesn’t feel it,” he whispers, and Stiles looks at him sharply – or, as sharply as he can, because his body still feels a little bit _not_ his and he feels a little bit fuzzy and he’s lying naked in his bed with Derek right there and he wasn’t kidding about the whole feeling really turned on.

“Like there could ever be anything else for us,” Stiles tells him, reaching his hand over to grab Derek’s, “It’s been forever with you since after the first few months, mate or not.”

Derek gives him that breath-taking smile of his, and leans down and kisses him and Stiles can’t help that he deepens the kiss, putting the hand that’s not entangled with Derek’s on the back of Derek’s neck and pulling him closer. When they pull apart Derek’s still smiling, presses another small peck to Stiles’ lips.

“I would love to continue this, but your dad is currently downstairs with my mom and Laura and – ”

“My dad,” Stiles repeats, feeling the blood rush from his face because oh fuck, his _dad_ , how the hell –

“Don’t worry,” Derek assures him, “We had to tell him because – when we brought you back you were in your wolf form, that’s what usually happens when your body first accepts the bite, that’s why you’re naked, so we had to tell him, but he – well, he accepted it all pretty well, but I’ll have him tell you about that.”

“My wolf form,” is what Stiles repeats next, and Derek smiles softly again.

“You’re a gorgeous wolf,” he tells Stiles, “Dark brown – lighter than Laura but definitely darker than Cora – and it lightens down to your belly and feet, which are white. The most beautiful wolf I think I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Stiles pauses, thinking about this; he can hear thing, he can feel things, he can smell things, he knows he’s a werewolf, everything that the pack and especially Derek have ever explained to him about ‘wolves he can _feel_ , but it’s that – it’s the thought of him in _full shift_ – that makes him pause, and it’s just –

“I’m a werewolf,” he states, and Derek looks at him, half amused and half concerned like he’s not certain which he should be right then, but honestly Stiles just can’t quite believe it.

“Are you okay?” is what Derek chooses to ask, his grip on Stiles’ hand tightening, enough that if Stiles was still human he has no doubts it’d be a bit painful, but all Stiles can do is nod, and smile, and nod again.

“It’s just – tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I turned eighteen less than a week ago, and now I’m a werewolf.”

Derek’s eyes are still careful, as they have been since the moment Stiles woke up, as if he’s ready for anything, and Stiles is careful to maintain eye contact with him as he continues.

“I never really had a desire to be a ‘wolf, I was perfectly happy being human, but I’m okay – I mean – you can run at full speed now and I can keep up with you.”

Derek laughs a little at that, obviously not expecting that.

“I’m not like unhappy about this, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Stiles assures him next, squeezing his hand, “Like I said, I’d rather be a ‘wolf than be dead, and – ” he pauses, thinking over the next bit for a second before he says it, “It’s not really a hardship, all the extra things that come with this – it’s kind of a like a superpower,” he ignores Derek’s glare at that, “But more than that I really like this…this mate thing, it’s something else from a ‘wolf’s perspective and I like it.”

Derek smiles once more before he gets up, gesturing over to the door.

“Really, though, you should get dressed. We need to go talk to my mom and your dad.” 

Stiles groans a little bit because he still feels a little achy and though his head doesn’t hurt much anymore he feels really physically exhausted and he kind of just wants to go back to sleep, preferably with Derek by his side, or at the very least he just wants to lay there for another little bit, talking to Derek. He pushes himself upright nonetheless, feeling another rush of _something_ go over him as he does, and it makes him a little bit dizzy but that clears up pretty quickly. When he looks up again Derek’s still standing there, but he has clothes with him – sweatpants, a t-shirt, underwear, and he hands them off, still keeping a careful eye on Stiles as he stands, taking the clothes.

“Thanks,” he says as he starts to pull them on.

Derek lets Stiles take the lead as they head down the stairs, and Stiles could hear the slightly muffled conversation from his bedroom but he can hear it _very_ well, now, even though the three are in the kitchen and are talking quietly, because he can hear _everything_. He can still hear Derek’s heart, he can hear the squeak of the kitchen chair as someone moves, he can hear a lawn being mowed down the street like it’s just outside his own house, he’s pretty sure he can hear the sounds of his next door neighbour bustling around their house.

“Stiles,” his dad says as soon as they enter the kitchen, sounding relieved as he gets up and hugs his son tightly.

“Hey, Dad,” he replies, and looks at his dad warily as soon as he lets go, “So, I guess you might have a few questions.”

“Sit,” the Sheriff tells him, gesturing to one of the kitchen chairs, and Stiles does so, nodding a quick hello to Talia and Laura, who’re both watching him with eyes so similar to Derek’s that it’s freaking him out a little bit. Derek sits next to him, throwing his arm around the back of Stiles’ chair, and Stiles leans into him a bit, because he’s still a little overwhelmed and frankly if this was what Derek had been feeling the entire time he does not blame him one bit for the whole creeping-on-Stiles-for-a-year-as-a-wolf thing.

“How are you doing, Stiles?” Talia asks as the Sheriff sits too, and everyone turns to him expectantly. He leans into Derek a little more, nodding.

“Good, I think? I feel pretty okay, mostly just tired and physically drained.”

“Expected when your body has been changing as much as it has in the past few hours,” Talia agrees before turning to the Sheriff, “He’s going to be a little…on edge for a little while, and with the full moon coming in a week…we’d like it if he could stay with the pack for the next couple of weeks. Since you’re coming to Thanksgiving with us tomorrow I figure this won’t be too much of a problem?”

Stiles figures his dad _is_ taking this whole thing pretty well, because he actually smiles at that and nods easily.

“I’d figured he’d be staying over at your house most days until Derek’s gone anyway.”

Stiles snorts at that, and the Sheriff looks over to smile at him, too.

“How’re you taking this entire thing so well? I didn’t even take the idea of werewolves this easy and I think I’ve accepted the possibility of supernatural a little more than you,” Stiles says, and his dad laughs.

“Well, there’s something, some family history, I guess you’re better off knowing,” he pauses, looks at Stiles carefully, “Your mother was a witch, so I knew all about these things before.”

Stiles feels his heart stop a little bit at that, jaw dropping because _what_?

“Mom was a witch?” he asks, to make sure that he heard that right, because supernatural hearing or not that’s something he’s never so much as heard whisper of before.

“She was,” Talia nods, and Stiles’ eyes shift to her, where she’s carefully watching him too, “She was also aware of…our situation, and the only reason your father wasn’t was because I had requested that she didn’t share exactly which family we were with anyone unless she had to. However, she was a good friend of mine and we were careful to accept her into our pack, especially when her own coven cut her off after she married your father.”

“Um,” is all Stiles can manage for a moment, because that’s a huge influx of information he doesn’t know what to do with, “Um. What?”

“She was a witch. She told me there was a pack of werewolves here when we moved here, she was powerful enough to be able to feel them immediately when we were still searching out where to live. But that’s why you’ve never met your maternal family; they’re all witches, a coven, up north. They don’t like humans much except for for business relations, so when your mother decided to marry me, she was cut off.” He glanced at Talia as Stiles took it all in, “But she never would tell me who was part of the pack and who wasn’t.”

“My mother was a _witch_?” Stiles tries again, because his mind still hasn’t wrapped around it and he’s eighteen why hasn’t he ever heard of this before? “Why did you never tell me?”

His dad looks a little regretful then, glancing down at his hands.

“We had plans to tell you when you were older, after you were old enough to realize that it was a secret you couldn’t tell anyone. Then she got so sick and…and it just never crossed my mind that it was important enough to tell you. You never showed any affiliation to being magical yourself…” the Sheriff trails off, looking back up to Stiles’ face.

“Well, now I’m a werewolf, so,” is Stiles’ reply, to which his dad nods again.

“Talia told me why she had to do it, and I’m very glad she made that decision. I’d rather you a werewolf than dead.”

Derek snorts at that, and when everyone looks at him, he shrugs, fingers brushing lightly against Stiles’ shoulder.

“Stiles said the same thing when I told him,” he explains, and the Sheriff chuckles a moment at that.

“Like father like son,” Laura comments, the first Stiles has heard her speak since he’s woken up, and she looks more serious than he’s ever seen her, he notes. She looks over to him, and he feels his eyes flash almost as a response. Hers flash back, and she quirks a smile.

“If it makes everyone feel any better, I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be one hell of a ‘wolf,” Laura continues, and everyone’s eyes go to him. Stiles isn’t one much for blushing, he never has been and it’s something he’s sort of grown out of as he’s grown up, but he does flush a little bit at that. He shrugs.

“Never thought much about it, to be honest.”

“Your mother was a pretty powerful witch,” the Sheriff admits, cocking his head to the side a bit, “She used to say that you had something special about your aura. It always made her wonder how you weren’t born with magical inclination, and she sometimes figured you had a ‘spark’ that was buried too deeply for her to access. Maybe that helps a little bit.”

“It does,” Talia agrees immediately, “Sparks are well known within the supernatural community. Many supposed humans do have sparks that are only discovered if something supernaturally traumatic, in either a good or a bad way, happens. This might have been it, for you,” she nods toward Stiles, “But I do agree with Laura. Since Derek brought you home for the first time I thought that you have the makings for a ‘wolf.”

Stiles just flushes a little bit more, apparently to the amusement of everyone else in the kitchen, if their laughs are anything to go by.

***

Thanksgiving starts with Stiles waking up next to Derek, which isn’t abnormal at all, but what is is that he can hear people (he identifies them as Derek’s dad Patrick and Laura and…Derek’s little brother, Jordan) bustling around downstairs, in the kitchen, and he can smell food, though he can’t identify what kinds, and coffee. He can hear Derek’s heart beating rhythmically, can hear his even breathing without even straining, and can smell something very distinct but not something he can place coming from Derek. His own body feels much better, he feels a lot less tired and achy, no headache to be even be there in the back of his head, and he feels a lot calmer than he had yesterday.

He does his best not to move, instead choosing to look at Derek and – and god, he’s not sure he’s ever going to get used to that feeling. It’s always felt right, being with Derek, he has no doubts at all that the whole mate thing had affected him profusely even when he was human, but it feels so much more right now. He feels comfortable, happy, perfect, and completely settled in a way he hadn’t before. He’s not – he’s heard a lot about the inner “wolf” over the last year, from Derek and from Cora and Erica and sometimes Boyd, and he figures that there’s something about _his_ “inner wolf” that has not only settled _him_ , but that _Derek_ settles. It had been something they’d discussed briefly the day before, when they’d gotten back to the Hale House and Erica had off-handedly said something about how having a mate settled your wolf, so Stiles would probably get on better than she and Boyd had when they’d been turned, and Stiles felt like he could feel that.

He’d never really thought about becoming a ‘wolf before, not more than the flight of a thought across his mind, because he felt okay being human, comfortable in his human skin. But on that he also felt, now, somewhat grateful about it all, because it had caused something _more_ in his life, something he wouldn’t’ve ever felt before.

Stiles could tell the exact moment that Derek woke up, before he even fluttered his eyes open, the change in his heartbeat immediate, which was, for one, _really fucking cool_.

“Why’re you awake,” Derek grumbles after a moment, and Stiles snorts, glancing over at the clock to see that – oh, it is only just passed six thirty. He’s not exactly one for sleeping in, but even this is a bit early for him; for that matter, _Derek_ hasn’t ever been one much or sleeping in, usually not passed eight even on the weekends and holidays unless he was supremely tired, and he’s figuring that it’s early.

“Noises. Smells,” he explains from where he’s propped up on his elbow, looking down at his boyfriend, “I’m not really used to them yet.”

Derek yawns, blinking as he wakes, slowly.

“I would ask if you wanted to go for a run, but as we haven’t had a chance to scout out the rest of the preserve yet, that’s going to have to wait a couple of days.”

Stiles scrunches up his nose, letting out a half-sigh, half-growl.

“I _am_ feeling a bit restless.”

“You’re a new ‘wolf and the full moon is in less than a week,” Derek murmurs in reply, which duh, Stiles already knew, but he really doesn’t feel like sleep, doesn’t feel like much except getting up and doing _something_.

“’M gonna shower and see if your family needs any help in Thanksgiving preparations,” Stiles decides, because hey, he can cook, too, and plus coffee, and plus he just really needs to do something.

“Gimme a minute and I’ll be there with you,” Derek replies, closing his eyes.

“Meet me in the shower,” Stiles tells him as he gets up from the bed, smiling when Derek gives a rolling growl at that, eyes popping back open.

They end up in the kitchen a little less than an hour later, Laura giving them a knowing look from where she’s perched on the island, drinking coffee, Patrick just smiling. Jordan gives an exaggerated wave and a whispered “Good morning!” to the both of them, which both Stiles and Derek happily return, and Laura nods over to the counter on the far side.

“Coffee and croissants. And then I’m putting you guys on potato duty.”

“Potato duty?” Stiles questions, happily taking the mug that Derek hands him and going over to the coffee. Derek sighs from behind him.

“We always have at least three different potato dishes at Thanksgiving. Tradition.”

“Tradition and the fact that Derek and Cora both absolutely love potatoes,” Laura points out, which Stiles snorts at around his croissant, because that’s something he’s actually noticed – Derek’s affinity to always get fries when they went out to dinner.

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles replies after a moment, sitting down at the bar.

***

Thanksgiving passes by in a flurry of making food and then welcoming all the guests that the Hale’s had invited over; Stiles’ dad and the McCalls, who usually had Thanksgiving with the Stilinski’s anyway, for dinner, and by the time desert came around Boyd and Allison had also arrived.

The full moon the next week passed by without incident, probably helped by Derek’s presence for the night, for Stiles at least, who quickly mastered the transformation to full-form wolf and back, to the chagrin of Erica, who admitted it had taken her over a month to be able to do that, and much to the delight of everyone else, particularly Derek and Jordan.

It was early December when Stiles sat down to dinner with his dad one night, and after a few of the usual questions (“how’s school going?” “how was your day?” “make any good arrests?” and the normal exasperated sight of “Stiles” at the last question), Stiles brought up the topic he’d been kind of avoiding since his…transformation.

“So,” he starts, and Stiles gets that wary look his dad usually gave him when he started a sentence like that, but he pushed on, ignoring the expression, “I need to tell you something about me and Derek?”

“You two didn’t break up?” his dad asks, and Stiles is almost surprised to hear how disappointed his dad sounds, and he kind of snorts at that, startled.

“Of course not, dad,” he says, giving his dad an amused look because ha, as if, “No, it has to do with the whole…werewolf thing.”

His dad gives him a knowing expression at that, nodding and looking expectant.

“There’s something akin to soulmates in the were world,” Stiles starts, speaking slowly and carefully picking out his words, and his dad’s expression turns to something more confused.

“That’s what Derek and I are,” he quickly continues, barging on before his dad can say anything else, “Actually that’s how I first discovered werewolves, because I’m Derek’s – soulmate, I guess.”

His dad is quiet, expression then thoughtful and still a little confused.

“So this isn’t something that you’ve just discovered since you…” the Sheriff makes a wild gesture with his hands that Stiles assumes is supposed to convey his wolfiness and he snorts a little bit at it.

“Nah. Derek’s…he told me about it when we first started dating.”

“But you weren’t a werewolf then,” his dad supplies, and Stiles shakes his head.

“No but sometimes ‘wolves have mates who aren’t weres.” He pauses, shrugs. “That was our situation until a couple weeks ago.”

The Sheriff nods, taking a sip of his water and taking the whole thing, much like the entire situation, much better than Stiles had expected him to.

“So what does this exactly mean for you and Derek?” he asks, and Stiles thinks about it for a moment before he answers.

“It means…Derek’s it for me.”

Those words make his dad pause, eyebrows raised.

“You’re eighteen, Stiles,” he points out, and Stiles smiles, shaking his head.

“I am eighteen, but I’ve found the one person in the world who will love me like no one else will be able to.”

His dad sighs but his expression is softer.

“I just want you to be sure you’re making all the right decisions,” he says, and Stiles smiles a bit brighter.

“I think a lot about the decisions I make,” he assures his dad, “And Derek is a really good one.”

Stiles swears he sees the Sheriff nod in agreement in accompaniment with the grunt that follows.

***

Christmas goes much the same way as Thanksgiving, everyone congregating at the Hale House, and it’s a quiet celebration later that night to celebrate Derek’s nineteenth birthday, per his request. The full moon a couple of days later goes well too, and though he’d spent a full moon or two with the Hale’s as a human, it’s different as a werewolf, better. New Year’s Eve is just a couple of days after that, and in typical fashion Lydia and Jackson throw a giant party at Jackson’s house, and for the first time Stiles realizes who being a werewolf can have downsides, because werewolves _can’t get drunk_. Derek laughs when Stiles tells him this, pulls something out of his jacket.

“I knew that’d be a sticking point for you so I had Laura mix this up for you,” he says, holding up a vial, and Stiles stares at the dark purple liquid for a moment before he asks, “What is it?”

“A strain of aconite,” Derek replies, to which Stiles’ eyebrows go to his hairline.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he demands, because that stuffs poisonous for _humans_ to consume, and deadly for weres to even _touch_. Derek laughs again, taking Stiles’ drink and pouring the tiniest bit in.

“It’s not poisonous. Well, not really, it’s a very specific strain and there’s so little actual aconite in it that it just lowers your defences a little, allows the alcohol to actually get to your bloodstream and not metabolize right away.”

He hands the drink back to Stiles who’s staring at him, because how has he not heard of this before?

“You always said you just couldn’t get drunk,” he points out, and Derek shrugs, taking a drink of his own beer.

“I don’t like getting drunk,” Derek replies, and Stiles makes a face.

“No, you just drink for the taste of it,” he says, and Derek shrugs with a “true.”

“You have wolfsbane.”

 Suddenly Cora is next to them, glaring at Derek, “I’ve been trying to get Laura to mix some up for me for months.”

Erica and Boyd come up to them before Derek can form a reply, Erica raising her eyebrow and looking at Derek’s jacket pocket.

“Were you planning to share that just with your boyfriend and not give any to your best friends?” she asks, and Derek rolls his eyes.

“Why don’t you all just get your own,” he suggests, and Stiles laughs at that as both Cora and Erica glare at Derek.

“Laura keeps telling me no whenever I ask her,” Erica tells him, and Derek shrugs.

“Guess she just likes Stiles more than she likes you two.”

Stiles laughs even harder at that, but within a few moments Derek is holding his hand out for their drinks anyway, rolling his eyes again.

***

Early admission letters start coming in the mail at the end of January, his last one arriving a couple weeks into February, and that night he tells Derek as they’re Skyping.

“I got in everywhere,” he says, watching Derek’s face split with the huge smile that follows those words.

“Knew you would,” he replies, and Stiles smiles back, looking down for a moment, “You decide where you’re going to go yet?”

Stiles shakes his head as he looks back up, smile fading.

“I was in a different place when I applied, Derek. I can’t go to NYU or even ASU anymore. I’m a ‘wolf, and I don’t want your mom to have to deal with trying to get an agreement with packs that are so far away.”

“Stiles,” Derek starts, sounding somewhat heartbroken, and Stiles figures it’s because he _is_ , because Stiles is, a little bit.

“It’s okay,” he tells Derek, shaking his head, “I really liked NYU. They have great programs and everything but…even without this I don’t know that I would’ve liked being so far away from home.”

“You got into four places in California, though, too,” Derek points out, and Stiles smiles again at that, though a bit more softly and sadder than before.

“Yeah. And I’ve thought a lot about it. UCR is too far away, too, but the other three – they’re all in the Bay area.”

“Stanford’s been your dream for forever.”

Stiles sighs, playing with the pen he has in his hand.

“Yeah, but the fact is that I think out of the three I like the idea of Berkeley the most.”

There’s silence from the other side of the screen, and Stiles can’t quite read Derek’s face through it.

“What would you major in for each of the schools? Maybe that’ll help you decide,” he suggests softly. Stiles sighs.

“I really like the idea of communication or media studies, and USF has both of those, and Stanford has communication studies, and Berkeley has media studies. I also really like the idea of interdisciplinary studies, because otherwise I’m going to have a hell of a time deciding on a minor because I just have too many interests and – and Berkeley’s the only one with something like that already established as a major so.” He shrugs again, because he _does_ love the idea of Stanford, and he also loves the idea of USF, and neither of them are more than an hour’s drive from Berkeley anyway. But – the more he thinks about going to Berkeley, the more he likes that idea.

He doesn’t like the idea of having to fight both his dad and Derek to be able to go there because for whatever reason, neither of them seem to think that maybe he wants to go there for _him_ as much as he wants to go there for _them_.

Derek is silent again, just watching him, for a moment before he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

“I don’t want you coming to Berkeley because you think you think it’ll be easier or better for us,” he says, and continues on before Stiles can speak up to protest, “But if you think that Berkeley is your best option, I don’t want you thinking I don’t want you to come here, because if it _were_ my choice I’d have you by my side for the rest of my life.”

All the arguments that had been stewing in Stiles’ head died away at that, and if hearts could melt, his did there. It’s not like he and Derek don’t say mushy shit like that to each other all the time, especially since Stiles was bit, it’s just – it makes Stiles feel something new every time. Not new – familiar, but just as strong as the first time, from the moment a few months into their relationship he knew he was in love with him.

He’s so fucking in love with him.

“It might be,” is what he says in reply, the smile on his face a hell of a lot more genuine than the others had been, because he feels better, now, about the thoughts of maybe making that decision to go to Berkeley – a decision he’s honestly been mostly planning since even before it became an impossibility to go to New York, “I love you.”

And Stiles swears to god that he has never, ever seen a smile more beautiful than Derek’s.

“Love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> a few notes:  
> \- I know in that in canon Stiles' birthday is supposed to be April 8. that has never felt right to me bc it just doesn't make sense in canon for me for a number of reasons. my headcanon has always been that his birthday is in November. I did a lot of actual research for this fic that includes looking up dates for Thanksgiving and lunar activity, so through all of that it was decided that Stiles would've been born November 16 for the sake of this fic. Derek's birthday is still December 25. Allison's is still in late Feb/early March, and bc of the way I wrote it that means that Scott's is sometime in April, about.  
> \- the implied past underage is in reference to Stiles and Derek. the implied underage is in reference to Allison and Scott bc in this fic Allison is 18 and Scott is 17. this is bc the age of consent in California is 18.  
> \- HOLY GOD I PUT A LOT OF RESEARCH INTO THIS FIC OKAY I never really paid attention to exactly how much I research when I write but if this fic is any indication I research a LOT. everything in this fic is as accurate as can be, including the majors for all of the colleges and the lunar cycle and date of Thanksgiving for 2012 (bc that's when I set this as). _everything_ is accurate.  
>  \- just in case you were wondering, yes I also picked out Derek's majors and minor: he's double majoring in Sustainable Environmental Design and in Architecture with a minor in Environmental Economics and Policy bc he cares a lot about the environment.  
> \- I totally meant for this to be just a two-piece storyline but then halfway through writing this I thought of a great plot for another part to it so yeah there's gonna be a third installment at some point in the future. so yay?  
> \- also in case you're wary of things like this (spoiler alert) Derek does kill an omega in the story. it's completely warranted and the omega is completely feral but if that's something that bothers you. 
> 
> find me at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com/) or [onedirectionaremyfirstlove](http://onedirectionaremyfirstlove.tumblr.com/)


End file.
